Darkness Falls Page 3

  She carefully affixes a clean bandage over my wound and re-packages the first aid kit. Gathering the trash, I rise from the table and attempt to deposit it in the overflowing garbage bin. We’re gonna have to do something about that. But not right now. “Ready to go?”

  Riley doesn’t meet my eyes. “Quinn, I was so worried about you. I drew the map and I thought we’d go out, but I really don’t feel like it now. Let’s just call it a day.” Her shaky voice radiates defeat. It’s my fault for leaving her alone for too long.

  In a flash, I’m standing before her. “No, Riley, it’s not too late. We can still go visit some of the others. Getting out a bit would be good for you,” I plea. “You pick where we go first.” I don’t wait for her to refuse. Grabbing her hand, I pull her up out of the seat. If she thinks about this for too long, she’ll abandon our plan and just give up. That’s the last thing Mom and Dad would have wanted us to do.

  Chapter 5

  Riley reluctantly follows me across the door’s threshold. Surrendering to my resolve, she quietly murmurs, “Alright, let’s start with Benny. He’s really the only one I want to see anyway. Maybe he’ll know what we should do.”

  “Yes—that’s a great plan!” I say, once again reverting to exaggerated enthusiasm. “Let’s leave the map here and mark it up when we get back. Don’t want anyone to think we’re taking notes or anything. Even though we are,” I joke, flashing Riley a cheesy grin.

  Her half-smile rewards my effort, and gratitude swells within me. As awful as our current situation is, at least I’m not here alone. Both of our parents were gone in the blink of an eye. It just as easily could have been Riley, too. Although life is pretty crummy right now, at least I still have my sister.

  The moment our feet hit the pavement, my stomach grumbles with hunger. The near-silence just amplifies it. Remembering the breakfast bar I grabbed from the kitchen before my run, I dig around in my pockets but come up empty. I must have left it in my pocket before I showered again and changed clothes.

  We navigate through the park, my eyes searching every home for movement or any signs of life. Shifting my gaze back and forth in slow motion, I scrutinize our surroundings.

  I’ve never seen the trailer park so vacant. No residents outside watering their plants or walking their dogs. No kids zipping through people’s yards on their bikes or skateboards. Not even Jim’s dad out tinkering in the storage shed. I thought I would be relieved to get out and see people, but this may be more depressing than sitting around in the trailer with Riley.

  The gravelly path crunches under our sneakers. We follow it to Benny’s place, the last lot on the perimeter of the park. Benny’s lived here as long as I can remember. He doesn’t come out much, but he is getting to be pretty ancient. He’s got to be in his seventies now.

  Climbing the three steps leading to his olive-green door, we pause for a moment before Riley gently knocks. After a few moments, scuffling feet stop in their tracks, and a familiar ebony face appears through the window. Benny’s gray eyes scrunch at the corners as a smile splays across his face. He unclicks the lock and tugs the door open, greeting us with a deep baritone voice. “Well, if it isn’t the Whelan girls,” Benny booms. “Come on in. It’s great to see you!”

  For a brief moment, I forget everything that’s happened. Reality quickly returns when Benny’s eyes wander over our heads, searching out the family members that won’t be joining us.

  Benny wraps us both in a hug before we all take a seat at the circular oak kitchen table. He has no need for idle prattle. I like that about him. He jumps right to the point. “Girls, I’m glad to see you’re okay, but what are you doing here? You should be home right now. I don’t mean home like at Grace’s, I mean at home with your parents.”

  Riley and I glance at each other. Her doe-like eyes glaze over with a thin sheen of tears. This is too hard for her. I’ll have to do it.

  Struggling to keep my voice steady, I recount how traffic went haywire on Route One. “We almost made it here when rain came out of nowhere and hammered the car. Sometime between Pennsylvania and Delaware, it felt like the Earth was tumbling off its axis.” I grasp the table top for support and continue. “We had no idea what was happening. As if the rain wasn’t enough, the ground below us roared and bucked, sending cars sliding and smashing into each other. There was nowhere to go.” Tears flood my eyes, threatening to spill. “Dad tried. He was trying to stop, to get away. But it was like slow motion. Cars flew toward us from every direction.” Recounting that highway of death and destruction leaves me queasy. When I pause to take a deep breath, Riley takes over.

  “I think I blacked out because I don’t remember much about it. I remember Quinn’s tear-stained face hovering over mine. When I saw the front of the car, it was just…gone. I couldn’t speak. I just wanted to disappear into myself at that moment.” She stops, her eyes focusing on the wood-grained table.

  Benny’s dark eyes volley back and forth between us. “And your parents?” he asks gently. His wrinkled face sags with genuine concern.

  On warm summer nights my dad would sit with Benny for hours, drinking beer and reliving their younger days. I’m pretty sure those were some of my dad’s favorite times here. Mom would send us over to retrieve Dad before we went to sleep. Benny always plied us with spiced gumdrops. He seemed to have an endless supply. We never told Mom about our pre-bedtime sugar rush but were always willing to visit Benny. He’s been like a long-distance grandfather to us.

  “Girls?” I shake myself out of the memory and answer Benny. “A red pickup truck flipped over directly in front of us. Behind it, some sort of black SUV lost control and slammed into the truck. The force of the truck…it didn’t slow until it rammed into our car. It completely crumpled the front half.”

  Benny’s eyes drop and remain fixed on the floor when he speaks. “So, there’s no chance—”

  I’m not going to let him finish that sentence. I really don’t want to hear the words. “No. There’s no way,” I interrupt.

  Benny’s watery eyes meet mine. “Oh girls, I’m so sorry. You did the right thing coming here, to Grace’s trailer.”

  With that, we fill Benny in on the past week. When the car finally stilled, confusion prevailed. Limping, crying bodies emerged from smoking vehicles. Alarms blared from immobile cars and trucks. Luggage spilled from vans and SUVs.

  Squeezing my eyes shut did nothing to hamper the nightmare erupting around me. Cracking my eyes open to the crushed nothingness of the dashboard and steering wheel, I forced my splayed fingers to trace the vertical lines running down the seat’s fabric. Just a moment before, my dad was on the other side of that seat. Seconds later, it was consumed by metal and glass. Just like the passenger seat where I last saw my mother.

  Crumbling inside and out, I succumbed to the intense sobbing my body couldn’t contain. After what felt like hours, I pushed through the shock and turned my unfocused gaze in Riley’s direction. Slumped toward the window, her head was cradled against the seatbelt. For a terrifying moment, I thought she was gone too. When my puffy eyes couldn’t locate any rise and fall in her chest, I grabbed her shoulders, fiercely shaking her limp body until she responded.

  Rubbing my eyes, I explain how we pilfered what we could from the car. Thankfully, our suitcases and the food coolers were on wheels. We had to maneuver about a mile from the car to the trailer. Mindlessly, we did it, not muttering a word. That first night we locked ourselves in the trailer, unpacked the week’s worth of meals, and settled in the flimsy beds, hiding beneath the shabby blankets. Since then, we haven’t done much besides sleeping. We only eat when our feeble appetites demand it. My eyelids droop by the time my lips close.

  Riley sits quietly, a pained expression painted on her face.

  Benny rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Girls, how about some food? You humor an old man and eat something?” We break into weak smiles in unison and nod. How could anyone say no to that? Besides, now that he’s mentioned food, my stomac
h recalls how empty it feels.

  “That sounds great, Benny,” Riley confirms. “Quinn, you go rest and I’ll help Benny.” Slowly rising from the table, my legs feel like lead. Meandering to the living room, I drop into the brown plaid recliner that my dad relaxed in dozens of times. Riley must have found her voice again. I’m thankful she keeps Benny company so that I can decompress.

  Talking about the crash renews my sense of grief. I guess it’s mine until my own death causes someone else’s grief. A wave of anguish courses through me, numbing my limbs and shooting a surge of pain through my heart. Between this and the run, I’m drained. When my eyes flutter closed, reality gently slips away.

  A muffled voice pulls me from the black void of sleep. A steady tapping on my arm accompanies Riley’s soft words. “Quinn, wake up. Dinner’s ready.” Arching my back and stretching in the recliner, my groggy eyes wander to the kitchen table. Sure enough, Benny is already seated before the steaming bowls of rice, chicken, and broccoli that await us. Rubbing my eyes, I peel myself out of the recliner and mosey over to the table.

  “So, Quinn, while you were catching some ZZZs, I was asking your sister about your plans,” Benny says. “Sounds like you two got none.”

  Riley glances at me apologetically. I reach my hand across the small table and place it over hers. “She’s right, we haven’t done much beyond getting through each day,” I answer somberly.

  “Well, on the news, they’re calling this area a recommended evacuation zone.” He raises his eyebrows and pauses. When I just stare at him, he continues. “Because of the damage along the highway and concerns that older people won’t be able to access food and medicines they need.”

  “So, what does that mean exactly, a recommended evacuation,” I ask.

  Riley’s eyes stay focused on Benny, and I’m guessing she heard all of this while I slept.

  “It means, if you want to get out and get help, now is the time to do it,” Benny says, rubbing the white scruff on his warm brown chin.

  “Some of the residents have been talking and they’re gonna try to reach a military base not too far from here, just until the highway is cleared,” Benny says. “Maybe you girls should go with them.”

  “Wait a minute, why are you saying them and not us?” I ask. “Aren’t you going?”

  Leaning back in his chair, he releases a sigh and rubs a big hand over his ebony face.

  “Girls, I’m an old coot. I’ll just slow everyone down,” Benny explains. He raises both arms and waves them in the air. “Besides, I’m not leaving my castle here without its king. But you, you girls should go to the base. See what the government is fixing to do.” He eyes us warily, shifting his gaze between us, awaiting a response.

  Maybe Riley’s had a little bit of time to consider this new information, but I haven’t, and we shouldn’t rush into any decision.

  “When are they leaving?” I ask. “We have to discuss this and consider all of our options.”

  “What’s there to discuss,” Riley asks nervously. “We don’t have any other options.”

  Thankfully, Benny jumps in again. “The group leaves in three days. Talk and think about it. Come see me again before then. I’ll find out more in case you decide to go.” He pauses for a moment before raising his graying caterpillar eyebrows, sending dark creases along his forehead. “And girls, you have to think beyond today. Grace’s trailer isn’t a sustainable home. Whatever you decide, I’ll help you, but you have to figure out what you’re gonna do.”

  I have so many questions, but my brain is firing in too many directions at once. I just can’t process any more information right now. We finish our meal and help Benny clean up. While Riley clears the table and I start washing dishes, Benny invites us to gather our belongings and stay with him. Surprisingly, Riley agrees with me that we should stay in Aunt Grace’s trailer for now. As grim as the past week has been, the trailer has been our safe haven. Besides, Riley and I need time alone to talk this out. While she may latch on to any solution right now, I’m not so sure we should join the group. It would be an easier decision if Benny were part of this pilgrimage.

  About a quarter of the trailers are vacation rentals, like our aunt’s. We’ve met some of the permanent residents in passing, but other than a few names here and there, the only others we know are Jim, Dan, and their dad.

  Chapter 6

  The walk back to our trailer is hurried. We want to be behind locked doors before darkness falls. Rubbing my arms, I attempt to counteract the chilly air that’s uncharacteristic for June. Once safely inside, words spill out of Riley’s mouth, “So, what are you thinking about the military base?”

  “I’m not sure,” I say slowly. “If Benny were going, this would be easier. I just have so many questions and doubts. Like, what if it’s not some safe haven? What if we can’t just show up and knock on the door? How far is it? If the highway’s that bad, how is this group going to get there?”

  Riley sinks into the sofa, eyes focused on the floor. She wrings her hands in her lap. “Quinn, we can’t stay here forever. We have to do something. Go somewhere.”

  “I know, but Pennsylvania’s a long way without a car.” Not like a car would do us much good with the highway being one big traffic jam.

  “The military base is probably our only hope,” she says. “I really just want to go home, but you’re right. We don’t have a way to get back to Pennsylvania on our own right now. Maybe people at the military base would let us call someone?”

  Aunt Grace cut the land line service to the trailer when pretty much everyone in the family had a cell phone anyway. Except I’m pretty sure mine hurtled across the highway in the impact, and we didn’t find Riley’s, although we didn’t exactly pore through the car before we left it.

  “What if it isn’t safe?” I ask. “And we don’t even know the people we’d be going there with. I mean, how can we trust them?”

  “Unless Dan and Jim are going,” Riley starts. “Maybe we should ask. We can just stick with them.”

  “Riley, we do not need them! We can figure this out without them,” I counter.

  Riley’s tear-filled eyes meet mine. “I just don’t know what to do, Quinn. I…I wish someone was here to decide for us.”

  “Look, we’re both exhausted. Let’s call it a day and talk more tomorrow. We could use some sleep,” I say.

  Sometimes our dreams are sweet fantasies and sometimes they are flashbacks to a hell we never want to remember. Since the accident, my dreams typically feature the latter. I hate how little control we have over the images our closed eyes display.

  As my body rests, my mind replays the morning we left for vacation. Our drive to the trailer should have taken about four hours, maybe a little longer if bathroom stops were necessary. This time, it took us nearly six hours just to make it to Route One, which runs right past the trailer park. The morning started out pretty typical, except for waking up with the first rays of sunlight. Shortly after tumbling out of bed, I caught my family’s excitement and allowed it to overtake me. All four of us were dressed, completely packed, and finished with breakfast by 7:00 a.m.

  From the hazy fog of my memory, I watch us load the car with a week’s worth of belongings before the sights and sounds of the trip return. Ear buds pumped Imagine Dragons and P!nk into my head as the rolling hills of Amish country flashed past my window. My mind replays when my body crumpled into the seat, lulled to sleep by the car’s motion.

  As I helplessly re-live that day, my mind remembers the tinny echo of rain that pelted the roof and pulled me from the nap. I rubbed my eyes, then turned my gaze out the window to find the scenery blanketed in rainfall and fog. A torrential downpour curtained everything beyond the lane next to us. Mom practically shouted to be heard when she asked my dad, “Should we pull over and wait the rain out?” When I glanced over at Riley, she was asleep, not even stirring. That girl could sleep through a bulldozer crashing into a dynamite factory.

  Dad had answered confidently, “
We’re so close. I hate to pull over now. Just a little bit farther and we’ll be at the trailer.” I watched as my mom gently placed her arm on his in solidarity. True partners, right to the very end.

  I turned my attention back outside to watch for a break in the rain. My eyes widened in horror when my ears identified the distinct grating sound of car smashing car, metal crumpling upon impact. Mom screamed and Dad slammed on the brake, but it did no good. Once again, my mind replays our car sliding on the rain-slicked road, along with all of the other vehicles around us. Red and black masses flashed past our windshield. The snapping crunch of metal filled my ears before the world fell eerily silent.

  When my body starts shaking uncontrollably, my eyes fly open. Riley is hovering over me, saying the same thing over and over. “Quinn, wake up!” She releases my shoulders when she sees I’m awake. I shake my head, as if that could rid my mind of the images it refuses to forget. “Quinn, are you okay? You were screaming in your sleep.”

  “Sorry I woke you,” I say between gasps. “I was just having a stupid dream.”

  “Sounded like a pretty bad nightmare,” she says. “And you didn’t wake me. I was reading. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Riley,” I lie. “Let’s go back to sleep.” Of course, my sister sees right through me. Tugging gently on my hair, she draws out my name. “Quiiiiiiiiiinn. I know you’re lying. Tell me about it.”

  Huffing out a deep breath, I relent. “It was about the crash. We were on our way here and the rain was falling and…I had to see it all happen again,” I whisper.

  Wrapping gentle arms around my trembling figure, Riley whispers back, “I’m sorry, Quinn. We shouldn’t have had to go through that once, let alone again and again.”